


experience

by seimaisin



Series: Priya Trevelyan [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Sex Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 19:36:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2703989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin/pseuds/seimaisin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Priya and Cullen get drunk and talk about sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	experience

**Author's Note:**

> Set not too long after the Inquisition gets to Skyhold, sometime between "In Your Heart Shall Burn" and "Here Lies the Abyss" / "Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts"

When she returned from the Mire, Priya found Cullen in his office, staring at a report consisting of two paragraphs. “How long have you been reading that?” she asked.

He blinked rapidly. “Too long,” he admitted, rubbing his eyes. When he looked up at her, he winced. “What …”

“I haven’t had a chance to wash my clothing in weeks. The Fallow Mire, by the way, is made entirely of shit.” 

“Clearly.” He wrinkled his nose. “No offense.”

“None taken. I think I’ve lost my sense of smell.” But not her eyesight, she thought, watching the lines on his forehead crease in a way she’d come to recognize. “Bad day?” she asked softly.

She could see him start to form a denial, but then he took a deep breath - an improvement, she thought, from weeks past. “Yes,” he admitted. “I’m … fighting a fair bit of pain.”

“Does anything help?”

“Honestly, alcohol is the only thing, but I can’t exactly go get drunk in the tavern at midday, can I?”

“Well, it would give everyone something to talk about.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” 

Priya smiled at him - keeping her distance, of course, mindful of her current smell. “Tell you what. I’m going to go make someone draw me a bath and find me clothing that doesn’t smell like the risen dead. You finish what you need to do, and then we’ll go find some ale and a quiet place and get good and drunk.”

“That sounds perfect. Well,” he added, smiling at her in the way that always turned her knees to liquid, “it would be better if I could come help with your bath.”

Just the thought warmed Priya’s cheeks. She and Cullen had been … whatever it was they were for nearly two months, but kisses on the battlements were all they’d had, physically speaking. Not that she’d trade those kisses for anything - no, her nights away from Skyhold were spent remembering the way his mouth fit with hers, hot and insistent, full of a need utterly hidden beneath his daily armor. She sometimes let herself think of what that need might feel like without armor or propriety in their way. 

She was sorely tempted to encourage him. An afternoon in her bed would probably do them both a world of good. But she could feel the presence of a messenger lurking in the doorway behind her - duty, as always, called. “Maybe another day,” she said.

Thankfully, her bath was hot - apparently, having mages who commanded fire at your disposal had its advantages - and her clothing clean, which went a long way towards making her feel more alive. She then traded a half hour of mission debriefing (and a favor to be named later) for two bottles of Josephine’s Antivan ale. By that time, the sun had dipped below the mountains, and the lanterns were lit around the courtyard as Priya crossed to Cullen’s office. 

He looked even more ragged when she arrived, his head resting in his hands. Priya cleared her throat. “Ready to go?”

“Maker, yes.” 

After a brief discussion, they headed to the top of the battlements, to an abandoned staircase that lay outside the guard rotation. “The wind is almost pleasant,” Priya observed as she settled at the top of the stairs. “It’s almost as if spring will someday come to Skyhold.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath.” Cullen slid down the wall until he sat with his legs out in front of him. “The weather is one of the only things I miss about Kirkwall.” 

“Oh, I definitely miss Ostwick.” Priya took the glasses out of her bag and poured each of them a generous drink. “If I ever get home, I will never complain about winter again. I’m pretty sure Ferelden considers that weather early summer.”

Cullen took a long drink, looking over the rim of his glass at Priya. “Are you homesick?”

She thought for a moment. “Yes and no. I miss my mother, and my sister. Though I don’t see my sister as often, now that she lives in Antiva. I miss my brother, the younger one, but he’s usually somewhere with the army.” She downed her glass in one gulp. “And I miss the weather. But otherwise … no, not really. I feel …” Priya looked around, at the walls surrounding them. “This is becoming home, in a strange way.”

“I know the feeling.” Cullen took possession of the bottle. “But then again, Kirkwall was never quite home for me, no matter how many years I spent there.” 

He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but when Priya met his eyes, he looked back down at the bottle and poured himself another drink. 

The first bottle disappeared in short order. By the time the second bottle was half finished, Priya found herself straddling Cullen’s lap, sitting on his thighs and laughing at his terrible drunken impression of Dorian. “You should do that in front of him, I think he’d appreciate it.”

“You mean he’d hurt himself laughing at me.” Cullen poked her in the stomach. “But I swear, he sounds just like that.”

“He sounds nothing like that. You sounded like a dying nug.”

“I did not!”

“You did too.” She leaned over and kissed him teasingly. “But don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

When she tried to pull back, Cullen put his hand behind her neck and held her in place. He captured her bottom lip with his teeth, gently tugging, until she met his mouth again. This kiss was longer, languid, full of lazy heat. His tongue teased hers, and a spark lit deep in her belly. Priya felt a sound vibrate low in her throat. Cullen’s answering chuckle seemed almost a physical caress in the heat between her legs. “Maker,” she breathed, leaning her forehead against his, “you’re good at that.”

“Thank you.” He rubbed his cheek against hers. “I had a good teacher.”

“Oh, this is the time to mention another woman, is it?”

He laughed. “The drink has clearly gone to my head. I apologize.”

“That’s okay. You should point me to her, so I can properly thank her.” She sat back, resting once again on his legs. “My teachers have been few and far between, so whatever mistakes I make are my own.”

“I’ve seen no mistakes where I’m sitting.” He paused to empty his glass. “Alright, this might be the wrong question to ask, but I can blame it on the ale if it goes terribly wrong. What kind of … experience do you have?”

“Experience? As in sex?” When he nodded, Priya grinned. “Some. A couple of men I knew in Ostwick - boys, really, at the ages we were at the time. I also spent an afternoon with a lady friend of mine a few years ago, that was fun.” 

“I can’t say that’s an experience I’ve ever had. With a man, I mean,” he added hastily. “But you with a woman … you know what I mean.”

She laughed. “Yes, I do.” Then, her smile faded. “The last one was the night before … everything. The Breach, everything. There was an Orlesian man, he’d been hired as a scribe for the conclave. We met at the dinner, and we went back to his tent. I forgot all about him, in all the … I don’t even remember his name.”

They were silent for a long moment. Finally, Cullen picked up her glass and poured her another drink. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “Not something to think about now. I answered, now you have to.”

“What?”

“Experience. Sex. What have you had?”

“Maker’s balls,” he muttered. “I did ask, didn’t I? Fine … there was a girl, back when we were both in Templar training. We … were together a few times, but we were so young and fumbling. After that, I never had much time, until Kirkwall.”

“Oh, was there someone special in Kirkwall?”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Special, in a way. Clara was a nobleman’s widow, several years older than me. We got to know each other at Chantry services, and eventually … well, we were both lonely, and we each needed an escape in our lives. It was just a couple of years before everything happened, and things were bad at the Gallows. It was nice to have someone I could see on my rare nights off, someone to talk to about things that had nothing to do with mages and Templars. And … well, I did learn a lot from her.” The quirk of his mouth spoke of the sort of things he may have learned. 

Priya felt a pleasant shiver in her belly. “Do elaborate.” 

“I’d rather show you.” He started to lean forward, then winced. “Somewhere we’re not sitting on cold stone, that is.” 

“Your bed isn’t terribly far.” She’d had visions of laying in that bed more often than she cared to admit.

“Yes, but …” Cullen sighed. “I’m absolutely sure I’m too drunk to be of any use to you right now.”

“Oh.” Suddenly, Priya’s head felt a bit light. “Right. Drunk.” 

“But for the record, at some point when I’m sober, I promise …” Cullen leaned forward to whisper in her ear. His promise involved his tongue and a most sensitive bit of her body, and Priya felt every inch of her skin heat up. 

“Commander, I didn’t know you used such language,” she said, her voice a bit strangled.

“Only when the situation calls for it, Inquisitor.” 

“Well. I intend to hold you to your promise.”

“Please do.” 

Honestly, by the time they managed to pull themselves to their feet and stumble, laughing, back down to Cullen’s office, Priya was absolutely sure that even if they’d intended to do anything, they would both be unconscious by the time they hit a flat surface. “Can you climb that ladder?” Priya asked him doubtfully.

He stared at it for a long moment, as if thinking very carefully. “No,” he finally decided. “But I’ve slept on worse floors before.”

“I plan to sleep in my bed,” she announced, nodding firmly. “I spent too many nights in the swamp.”

“Please don’t fall down the stairs,” Cullen said. “Or up them. Or wherever.”

“I promise. I’m the Inquisitor.” The proclamation made perfect sense in her head, but for some reason, it made Cullen snort with laughter. 

She did, in fact, make it back to her own room in one piece - though perhaps with a few bruises on her shins from wayward stairs. And, if when she was settled in bed, she slid a hand between her legs and eased her own ache, it was just fine. Perhaps Cullen was easing his own in a similar way, laying on the floor of his office. 

That particular image sent her to sleep unsatisfied, but with a pleased smile on her face.


End file.
